


Destiny Calling

by pizarra



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Action/Adventure, Gen, M/M, Men of Letters
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-10-11
Updated: 2013-10-11
Packaged: 2017-12-29 02:43:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,184
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/999909
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pizarra/pseuds/pizarra
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean is a Hunter whose life has been predetermined by a prophecy. While teaching one day, he heard a noise that convinces him that the time has come for the prophecy to happen. What follows next is his search for an angel who will help him fulfill his destiny.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Destiny Calling

Dean is writing a question on the whiteboard about symbolism in _The Great Gatsby_ when he heard this faint buzzing in his ears. He stops, lowers the marker, and looks around for the source of the noise. What he sees is a room full of students, with frowns on their faces, perhaps wondering what the hell their professor is doing now.

Dean walks towards the tall windows of his classroom and looks out. Outside, the courtyard is the vision of an ordinary Tuesday afternoon, with students milling and throwing footballs about, and fellow professors heading to their offices or classrooms. Dean is all ready to leave it alone and go back to teaching when the buzzing grows louder, raising the hairs on the back of his neck, and making him cover his ears. Certain now that the sound is a product of the supernatural, he looks around while reaching for the satchel underneath his desk. He needs to protect these kids. He needs to protect _his_ kids…

But his students look bewildered. And Mark, his TA, is suddenly kneeling before him with concern in his eyes, touching his forehead. Dean sees Mark’s lips move, shouting something at his students. He tries to open his mouth, to tell them to run, but the words gets stuck in his throat because, at that moment, the sound forces its way into his brain. He kneels and clamps his hands to his ears harder to somehow block off the sound, but it goes on, the sheer power of the sound making him see stars.

“ _Dean Winchester.”_

The sound abruptly stops, leaving him with a heaving chest and a sweaty forehead. He feels something warm trickle down the side of his head, so he swipes at it with a finger. Blood. His ears are bleeding.

Mark’s voice reaches him after a moment. “—don’t think he can hear me. Can somebody please get the nurse?! Professor?! Professor, are you okay? We already called for help, and I—“

“I’m fine,” Dean growls, and he knows that it’s not Mark’s fault, but he can’t help feeling embarrassed about the whole thing.

“But professor, you’re bleeding—“

He pulls a handkerchief from his pocket to clean up the blood as best as he can. “Seriously, Mark, I’m fine.” He smiles shakily. “But, uh, can you finish the rest of the class? I, uh, I need to go home and, uh…”

“Of course, Professor.”

And with that, he takes his bag and leaves. But not to his apartment. No, he goes to his parents’ house, because they need to know about this.

 

* * *

 

Dean sees his mom and dad waiting by the door as he pulls up to their house. He called them and Sammy as he drove to tell them what happened. His dad took the rest of the day off from the garage, while Sam promised to go straight to their childhood home after court. Dean breathes deeply before getting out of the car. This is it. This is the moment they have all been waiting for.

He hugs his dad in greeting, while he kisses his mom on the cheek. Mary smiles warmly at him before stepping inside the house. “Come on, sweetie, there’s coffee and pie waiting for you in the kitchen.”

Dean follows his mother into the house, and his father John claps him on the back as he passes. He knows without looking that John is making sure that the wards are in place and that they can’t be heard through natural and supernatural means. They need privacy—hell, they need something more than that. They need all the help they can get.

After placing a plate of apple pie and a cup of black coffee in front of him, John and Mary settles across from him. The pair waits patiently for Dean to start talking, though it’s apparent with the way John’s fingers keep tapping his knees and Mary’s incessant hair pulling, that his parents can’t wait to hear the story.

After a small bite of the pie, Dean stares at his plate and says, “It’s time. It’s started.” Mary puts a hand on his chest, and reaches out to squeeze Dean’s hand. He sighs. “Back at the school, there was this—this thing. There was this buzzing, and-and—and…” He takes a deep breath, and starts again. “There was this buzzing, and it got louder and louder, but I was the only one who can hear it. And my ears,” he scoffs, “my ears started bleedin’. I mean, that’s got to mean something, right?” He gets up from the table and starts pacing. “It’s weird. The kids—they couldn’t hear it, and-and at first, I thought it was a vengeful spirit or a demon, but then it suddenly stopped. Like it didn’t happen at all.”

 “Dean,” John starts, but Dean cuts him off.

“Look, this has gotta be it, right? I mean, I didn’t smell any sulfur, and-and I always, _always_ , check for hex bags and stuff.”

“Sweetie,” Mary says, “we don’t know that for sure.”

“But this has got to be it!” he shouts. “This is the only tangible thing that has happened for years. For years! We’ve been finding and hunting and killing every demon and monster we can get our hands on, but this is the only real thing we’ve got!”

“Son, I know you’re frustrated.” Dean opens his mouth to interrupt, but John speaks faster. “But. But, we don’t know anything. We still have to investigate and make sure that this—whatever this is—is what we have been looking for. We can’t afford to make mistakes.”

“There’s another thing,” Dean announces and glances at his parents, who have gone quiet. “Before it was over…” he cleared his throat, then trudges on, “Before it was over, I heard it.”

Mary’s eyebrow raises, John asks the question, “You _heard_ it?”

He nods.

“It _spoke_ to you?”

Dean wipes a hand over his face. “Well, it didn’t speak to me, like, _speak_ to me, but yeah, it spoke. It said my name.”

“And when you say it said your name…” Mary clarifies.

“My name! Dean Winchester! Jeez, did you guys name me something else?” Mary raises her eyebrows again, and arranges her face in a way that would give Sam’s bitchface a run for his money. Dean lowers his voice before he gets lectured on his manners. “Look, it said my name; that’s it. Then the sound stopped suddenly, and next thing I knew, my ears were oozing blood.”

“Okay.” John looks at Mary, then reaches for her hand. “Okay, we look into this, with the assumption that this is the real deal. But we do this correctly; no half-assing. And no stupid stuff. You got that?” John looks at his son.

“Yeah, I got it.” Dean sits back down.

“Sweetie, you wanna stay here for tonight?” Mary’s concern is evident in her voice.

He frowns. “Mom, I’m a grown-ass man, not 12 years old! Jeez!”

 

* * *

 

Dean has heard the prophecy many times—from his mother, from his father, from the old, gnarly Men of Letters who never seem to tire of going to the Winchesters’ home to gawk at Dean. He’s pretty sure that it’s engraved in his brain.

Years ago, a handful of angels walked the earth using their vessels, helping the hunters and the Men of Letters rid the world of demons. But then the demon Abaddon broke out from Hell, and everything changed. Demons started taking the angels one by one—for what reason, nobody knows. Confused and outnumbered, the angels retreated back to Heaven, leaving the humans to fend for themselves. But they didn’t leave the humans empty-handed. They gave the prophet a table that foretold the coming of the Righteous Man and the Unchained Angel. And that—that’s where he, Dean Winchester, comes in.

For the humans aware of the supernatural, Dean is special. He is the firstborn son of Mary Campbell, a Hunter who came from a long line of Hunters, and John Winchester, a Man of Letter with an ancestry that goes back to the first councilmen of the secret society. And that – their lineage, their training, their way of life – that right there is the reason why John and Mary’s marriage is significant.

The Men of Letters are the preceptors, beholders, and chroniclers of all supernatural things, while the Hunters are the ones who do their dirty work. Since the beginning of time, the Men of Letters view the Hunters as a means to an end, specifically the end of demons and monsters, and sees themselves as a higher caste than the Hunters. They don’t mix with Hunters socially, nor would they want to be married to one. Only the most elite of the Hunters know about the secret society, and, though the Campbells are the some of the best Hunters out there, they weren’t the most elite. But John fell in love, and fall he did. He didn’t realize that Mary was a Hunter, nor did Mary know that John was a Man of Letter.

Two months after they graduated from university, they got married. Three months into the marriage, John, who was wondering why his wife was regularly sneaking out of the house in the middle of the night, secretly followed Mary to her storage lock-up, where he saw the weapons.

What followed after are shouting matches, tears, and late-night talks. Eventually, John and Mary forgave each other and their bond became stronger than before. Another couple of months later, the Men found out and they started watching the couple from afar. And when Mary became pregnant, the Men told them about the prophecy. Whispers of the Righteous Man seeped into the Hunter community, and that’s when the lines separating the two societies blurred. The Hunters found out about the Men, and both the Men and the Hunters await the coming of their golden boy.

From the minute that Dean was born, the Hunters and the members of the Men of Letters have regarded him with awe, uncertainty, and fear. And violence. When he was four years old, a crazy hunter suddenly grabbed him from the backyard of their home to force him to reveal the kind of power that he holds. He was held in a dingy basement for three days before John, Mary, and a handful of Hunters took him home. Dean’s kidnapper was never heard of again.

Truth be told, even he doesn’t know the kind of power he has or if he has one. He’s been trained to hunt and to succeed as a member of the Men since he was six, but he knows he doesn’t exhibit any supernatural strength or abilities. Hell, he even lost out to his brother when it comes to the brains department. Sure, he hunts demons and monsters whenever they get a lead on a free angel, but that’s about it. He doesn’t believe he’s special.

Despite his training and the admonition of the Men of Letters, his parents insisted that he lives a normal life, albeit a quiet one as they all wait for the ‘right time.’ John and Mary didn’t bat an eyelash when he said he wanted to take up Literature and become a professor. He has a handful of friends outside of the hunting community, although Dean slips them holy water every chance he gets. They even allowed him to get his own place, despite the Men throwing a hissy fit.

And today is the first time that Dean Winchester has experienced anything remotely linked to the prophecy. And Dean knew, in his gut, that what he heard is the sound of his Destiny calling.

 

* * *

 

Dean closes and locks the door of his apartment with a sigh. Damn, he’s beat. After Sam arrived, he retold the story, and they discussed it to exhaustion, even prompting Sam to extend his services. If the kid wants to help, Dean figures that’s fine with him.

He throws his keys in the bowl by the door, and takes his jacket off. He’s so tired that he just wants to sleep for a week. But before he can reach his bedroom, a burst of light flashes before his eyes—so bright that Dean’s convinced he’ll go blind. And before he can recover from the pain in his eyes, the sound he heard this afternoon starts again, but it didn’t start low like before. No, this time, it began as an ear-splitting screech that threatens to split Dean’s skull wide open.

Unbelievably, the shriek becomes louder than before, making Dean scream in pain as he falls to the floor. Before he can do anything, the sound stopped.

Dean lifts himself up into a sitting position, his arms shaking. Now, that. That was real power. He can’t explain it, but there’s a feeling in the pit of his stomach that tells him something big is coming, and he’s smack in the middle of it. He stands up on shaky legs, slowly making his way to the bedroom. He needs to find this angel, fast. Before it’s too late.


End file.
